


My Dearest Son

by golddragon



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Slightly Sadistic Thranduil, Slutty Legolas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 22:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golddragon/pseuds/golddragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil has Legolas bent over a table. Kind of dub-con/non-con ish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Dearest Son

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive the liberties I have taken with this fic; the Sindarin used is abysmal :)
> 
> Sindarin used (hopefully):  
> Iȏn nin - My son  
> Ada - Father  
> Garn - Own  
> Titta mine - Little One  
> Nin Melethron - My Lover
> 
> Enjoy x

“You want it.” 

Thranduil’s viperous words were like honey, syrupy and thick and too rich to swallow as he leant over Legolas’ pinned form. His hand twisted in the young elf lord’s blond hair as he gripped the back of his son’s neck, forcing him onto the wood of the table, and Legolas’ eyes flickered shut and a grimace passed over his face. 

He knew better than to respond to his father, Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood. Especially when he was bent almost double in Thranduil’s Great Chamber, hands tied behind his back with a length of elven rope. Legolas was no novice to these situations. 

Thranduil bent his head and nosed into the silky blond mass of his son’s hair, inhaling its scent deeply. “Mmm… You smell better every time.” With the tip of a pointed tongue he tasted the uncovered tip of an ear and Legolas flinched at the soft wetness. Thranduil took the delicate curved shell between his teeth, nipping gently. “Shall I fuck you again tonight, iȏn nin?”

Please no. Thranduil had already fucked him raw last night. 

A hand slipped up between the Silvan elf’s legging clad thighs and cupped the soft bulge nestling there. Palming the soft mass in his elegant hand Thranduil began a gentle rubbing motion. Above, Legolas grit his teeth and tried to resist the hardening he could already feel. Not again.

“Answer me, iȏn nin.” Thranduil’s voice was stern and he squeezed Legolas tightly between his legs. Legolas restrained the cry that threatened to escape his lips. “Do you want me to fuck you again tonight?”

“No, Ada,” Legolas replied, trying not to spit the words that wanted to burst from him in a shout. 

Thranduil laughed - a small, delicate tinkling thing. “I thought that might be your answer.” He gripped Legolas’ chin in one hand to pull his face around to look at him. The Elvenking fixed him with a stare as dark as night, and he held it for an interminable minute. Then instead of striking him, as Legolas had expected, Thranduil released him and his dark brows lowered. He let out a long-suffering sigh. 

“When shall you ever learn?” Thranduil drew his arm back and whip-lash quick slapped Legolas across the face, the resulting crack resounding around the spacious chamber. Legolas hissed in pain as he tasted blood on his lip. 

“Mine garn.” Thranduil whispered. A grin mirroring that of a wolf revealed Thranduil’s pearly white canines as his lips stretched over his teeth. “I do so love it when you protest.”

When shall this charade end? Legolas wondered wearily as Thranduil stepped away in a glorious swirl of robes. He rested his forehead on the table. They both knew how this would turn out. Legolas was already helpless, but he would be even more so when he was caught in the throes of lust. He could never restrain himself once he had been filled up inside, penetrated, hot and pulsing, to his core. Both of them knew it.

Thranduil bent back over his son’s body. Legolas shuddered as Thranduil’s hand smoothed up over his backside and pushed under the silver-edged, leaf green tunic he was wearing. Cold fingers slipped to tease along the underside of his waistband, and Legolas realised with a dismayed start that he was waiting with bated breath for Thranduil to dip his fingers down further and touch his skin. He was already hardening, his body again remembering his father’s touch as he anticipated their contact. His body was incorrigible. 

“No, Ada,” Legolas whispered in weak protest as Thranduil slipped his leggings down over his thighs, his heart thudding at the speed of a moth’s wings. His entrance twitched at the cold air of the chamber as it was exposed and Legolas again winced, repressing a shudder of desire as his length further hardened. As he had expected, Thranduil ignored his words and proceeded to press one of his ice-cold fingers against Legolas’ hole. 

“Ada!” Legolas cried out. Although he was dry, he eagerly swallowed the tip of Thranduil’s finger. How good it felt!

“You like that, hmm?” The young elf princeling - already panting at the sudden over-stimulation of his nerves - could hear the smirk in Thranduil’s voice, and he knew that the Elvenking was watching him with smiling, satisfied eyes. No.

Legolas heard the rustle of robes behind him and closed his eyes at the sound of heavy material dropping to the floor. His body shivered in expectation. He flinched when a slender, tall naked body was pressed against his bare legs and he felt the sudden hot hardness of his father’s shaft pressing against his entrance. Oh, stars.

Thranduil muttered some words under his breath and with a soft whooshing sound Legolas was similarly divested of his clothing. The hairs on his arms and neck stood up in the frigid air as Legolas was suddenly exposed and naked. He had to fight with himself to prevent his body from pushing backwards and rubbing against his father’s hard length. He wanted it. 

“Aren’t you desperate,” Thranduil tutted, watching with amusement as his son writhed almost indiscernibly on the table before him. He certainly made for a pretty picture, face all flushed - and they hadn’t even started! – like that. “And still raw…” He ran his finger around the rim of Legolas’ hole.

“Ah!” Legolas cried out.

“I’m almost tempted to take you dry this time, titta mine -” Legolas tensed “-but I won’t do that.” His son sighed in relief. “However… I think tonight only this will do.” Thranduil pushed two of his fingers into Legolas’ mouth, watching as his son’s eyes widened in surprise. “Slick them up, iȏn nin. They will determine how gentle a ride you have tonight.” 

Closing his eyes and obeying his father’s words Legolas obediently wrapped his tongue around his Thranduil’s digits, twining around and through the fingers. Coating them with a second skin of saliva, the elf princeling noted with a twisted satisfaction the intake of breath his actions caused Thranduil. Eyelashes fluttering, Legolas sucked, hollowing his cheeks, and was rewarded when Thranduil quickly removed his fingers from Legolas’ mouth. 

“Enough.” Thranduil’s voice was almost unsteady. Legolas noted the added hardening of his shaft against his back. “Enough…” he whispered, regaining his breath. Without any pre-warning Thranduil brought his slicked up fingers to Legolas’ entrance and quickly pushed them inside. Legolas gasped. 

“Ada!” 

Thranduil was liberal as he coated Legolas’ inside with his own spit. Legolas writhed against the insufficient intrusion, his muscles clenching around the too-thin length. He let out an unhappy moan as he unsuccessfully tried to rut on them. His own member, by now pressing hard against the underside of the table, was leaking a clear, seeping fluid.

“Be patient, nin melethron.” Thranduil withdrew from Legolas’ body, leaving him almost empty. Legolas cried out in protest, unable to help himself. He was panting heavily now, his hair in disarray over his eyes, and he squirmed to look behind him to see if Thranduil was ready to enter him yet. He needed it. Stars.

Thranduil pressed back up against Legolas’ entrance, his thighs pushing against the backs of Legolas’ own, his eyes feverish and shining, and Legolas tried to worm back onto the hard tip that pressed teasingly against him. He could feel the cock head right there! 

Thranduil had removed his crown sometime earlier and now he brushed the long hair that had dared to escape over his eyes back over his shoulder. He liked to make Legolas wait; to make him beg.

“Ada-” It was a plea. Legolas was almost whimpering, the shame of his cries lost in his growing anticipation of the coupling. The Elvenking smiled, gleefully delighted. His eyes feasted on the quivering, pale, soft-skinned lithe elf body in front of him, bared to him for his taking. Legolas was almost coming just from the anticipation of it.

“Now, now, iȏn nin.” Thranduil grasped his hips, and Legolas whined at the contact. How he desperately wished to rut! He squirmed against Thranduil’s grasp. With an indelicate grunt Thranduil’s hands flexed on his son’s hips and he forced himself forward a little. His penis breached Legolas’ welcoming ring of muscles at his entrance and Thranduil moaned out loud a little at the engulfing heat. 

Then cruelly drawing back, causing Legolas to cry out, with a glint of deep desire in his eyes Thranduil roughly snapped his hips forward and Legolas’ whole world exploded into pulsing ecstasy.


End file.
